


Purging

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Canon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-17
Updated: 2006-04-17
Packaged: 2018-12-27 00:32:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12070104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: "That place is full of him, Lindsey.  Everything has him all over it.  His clothes in the closet, his smell in the sheets.  His fucking shampoo in the shower." Brian's moving out.  Lindsey's helping.  post 513.





	Purging

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

Lindsey stepped through the threshold and stared. 

"Brian!?" she exclaimed, staring wide-eyed at the room. Brian just glanced over his shoulder at her as he headed toward the bedroom to grab a suitcase. 

"What?" he asked.

"Everything's here... everything's still here, all your furniture."

"Yeah."

"Your bed, your couch, your chairs, your tables."

"Yeah."

"I thought you were ready to go."

"I am."

"You're leaving everything?"

"Yup." 

Lindsey balked and stared for another moment. "Why? There must be like fourteen, fifteen thousand dollars worth of furnishings in here."

Brian gave her a cock-eyed, smiling frown. "More like thirty thousand, Lindsey." 

Lindsey was having trouble breathing. She sat down in a dinning room chair. 

"You're selling it furnished?"

"Yeah."

"Brian, no one is going to have the money to rent an apartment with thirty grand worth of furniture."

"I'm not charging for the furniture. I'm just leaving it." He said plainly. "Grab that last bag." he said, pointing over his shoulder towards the bedroom. Lindsey stood like she was in a dream, walked to the bedroom. The sheets were still on the bed, and she wasn't sure, but it looked like some of Brian's clothes were still in the closet. 

"You're leaving your clothes?" she asked. Brian glanced up at her, confused. She pointed to the closet. 

"Oh." He said quietly, a look of resignation on his face. "No, those aren't mine." 

Lindsey stood and opened the closet door. No, the suit inside was too small and too cheap to have been Brian's.

"Doesn't he want it back?" she asked soberly, touching the fabric of one of the cuffs. 

"No. I called him-it's old, it doesn't even fit him that well anymore. He'll get a nicer wardrobe where he is."

"You called him?" Lindsey asked, leaning back, trying to visualize Brian's face to emphasize the question.

"Sure." He said, not allowing her to. She laughed.

"Well, what did he have to say?"

Brian looked uninterested. "Things are good. He likes the city. He's met some people who can help him with a show."

"Yeah, he told me. Some hip, Bohemian gallery in the Village called Off-Off Broadway." 

Brian laughed once to himself. "Think Andy Warhol ever had to deal with cutesy names?" he asked dryly.

"I'm sure he did." Lindsey smiled. She picked up the bag off the bed-a large half filled Armani Exchange bag. She took two steps and glanced back at the room. "Brian." She breathed.

"What?" he called, voice sounding tight and a little annoyed. She walked the rest of the way into the living room and stood next to him, put her hand on his back and turned him to look at the place. 

"You'll miss it, won't you?" she asked pointedly. "I'll miss it, and I hated it."

He seemed to relax. He smiled patronizingly and kissed her temple. 

"I think, after ten years, I hated it too." He turned out of her touch and pushed open the heavy metal door. "Come on. To the Dyke Mobile."

Lindsey tried not to laugh, because she knew it only encouraged him, and followed him down the wide, dirty staircase from the loft to the street. Her car, her wife, and one of her children sat waiting for them. 

"Dad!" Gus squealed from the open window of the minivan. 

"Hey, sonny boy." Brian answered, smiling tiredly. As much as he loved his son, and as much as he loved Lindsey, and as much as he didn't hate Melanie, Lindsey knew that Brian didn't really like being around people when he was doing something like this. He didn't like being depressed in front of people.

The trunk of the car popped open. Brian lifted the door and started putting the suitcases that had amassed on the ground next to it inside. Lindsey helped, and glanced up to see Melanie turned around in her seat, talking quietly to Gus. Lindsey had a pretty good idea of what she was saying-don't be loud, don't be silly; Dad's tired. 

"Did he tell you about this guy?" Brian asked suddenly, surprising Lindsey, bringing her back to the present.

"Who?" she asked, unsure of where the question was coming from. 

"Justin. Did he tell you about the guy he's seeing." 

Lindsey felt her heart sink. 

"A guy?"

"Yeah, some guy he's been dating, some dancer named Jason." Brian answered, keeping his eyes off her, trying to keep his voice casual as he dropped another bag into the car. 

Lindsey hated seeing him like this-seeing him trying to cover. He was usually so good at it, and when he was this blatantly bad it had to mean something. He knew that the point of this inquiry was clear. He wasn't even trying. 

She dropped what she was doing as that implication sunk in. She frowned in a very womanly way, feeling her chest clench up for her poor, dear friend who couldn't express himself. 

"Oh, no... honey, I'm sorry-" she began, unable to stop herself, putting her hand on his back. 

"Don't, don't, don't do that, Lindsey, Jesus fucking Christ." Brian snapped suddenly, all the anger pushing out of him, all that hatred of being pitied. He spoke too loudly, pushing her hand down. 

"Brian!" Melanie snapped, her voice sharp and chastising from the driver's seat. 

"What?" he shot back, looking up at her, challenging her. They said nothing to each other for a moment, Melanie just stared at him, frowning, confused, and Brian just stared right back. Then he grabbed the last bag, chucked it into the car and slammed the door down so hard the sound of it cracked through the air like an explosion. Lindsey yelped, pressed her hand to her chest, and Gus started crying. Brian stalked around the car and opened the passenger door. Before he'd had the chance to even step inside, the driver's side door was slamming shut and Melanie was rounding the car to stand in front of him.

"Back off, Melanie." Brian scoffed, trying to climb into the car. Melanie put her hand on his chest and gave him an effective push back. He staggered about a step and looked up at her with the sudden, hard anger of the unexpected physical affront. "Fuck you!" He yelled suddenly. Melanie shut the passenger door. 

"No, fuck you, Brian. What's gotten into you? We're trying to help, and you're acting out more than your fucking five-year-old."

"Melanie-" Lindsey began, still standing next to the trunk, her hand shading her eyes. 

"No, really, this is unacceptable. If you want, we can leave and come back later when you're ready to act like an adult, cause it's a long drive and I'm not going to sit there while you talk to her like that, especially in front of our son." 

Brian sighed and looked off toward the building. 

"Well?" Melanie pressed. 

"Don't fucking bitch-slap me, Melanie, I'm not your fucking kid, don't put me in fucking time-out." Brian snapped at her. "I can always call Michael."

"Michael and Ben are spending the day with Jenny, but if you really want to call them up and tell them you were too petulant to get in the car with your friends and your kid and drive for an hour, sure, that's your prerogative." 

"Melanie." Lindsey said again, stronger, louder. She was standing away from the car now, demanding attention. 

"What?" Melanie asked, not angry, but full of frustrated energy. 

"Why don't you and Gus take Brian's stuff and drop it off at the place. We'll call a cab."

Melanie looked at her like she was crazy. 

"Are you kidding me?" she asked.

"Mel." Lindsey sighed. Melanie looked at her for a moment longer and then nodded curtly. 

"Okay. But you get to explain to our son why he didn't see his father."

"I'll come get him tomorrow morning, alright?" Brian said, a little calmer, trying not to look at the round, teary face looking at him through the window of the van, trying not to hear the crackling sobs of his son's soar throat. "You can... tell him that."

Melanie said nothing, but turned and got into the car, started it, and began to pull out onto the street.

"Dad! Da-ah-ah-ahddy!" Gus's sobbing voice carried to them as the car drove off, and Brian watched the pavement.

When the car was out of sight and Gus's voice was out of earshot, Lindsey decided it was time to start looking each other in the eye. 

"Brian."

"What."

"Brian, what's going on? If you're unhappy-"

"Let's not." He said quietly. "I don't need a counseling session." 

"I think you do." Lindsey shot back. She walked up to him and forced his face toward her. He looked at her like he was about to spit in her face. "If you're unhappy, do something about it." 

"I'm not unhappy. I'm just moving." he said. 

Lindsey didn't know how to respond. She stared at him for a moment and then dropped it, turning away from him and taking out her cell phone. 

"What's the number for a cab?" she asked tightly. He gave her the number and sat down on the edge of the sidewalk. Brian followed and sat beside her. After a moment of silence Brian pulled out a joint and lit it. He passed it silently to Lindsey. Lindsey gave it the obligatory "I'm a mother" frown, and then took it, taking a few short hits. 

"So you're purging yourself." She finally said. The sun was starting to go down and the end of the joint glowed hard with each inhale Brian took, struggling against the growing dark.

"Pretty much." he said matter-of-factly. 

"How long's it going to be before you sell the house, too." She said flatly, turning to him. He shrugged without looking at her, taking another long inhale. 

"Give me that before you smoke yourself stupid." She said, taking the joint and smoking herself a little more stupid. "I think," she began, pausing for a hit, "that you're moving into a huge, empty house that you bought to be married in, and it's going to make you even sadder." 

Brian frowned off into the distance and lit a cigarette, signaling that he was done with the joint. Lindsey sat quietly, knowing that if you want an answer from Brian, you need to expect it. You need to surround him with silence until the only thing he can do is respond. 

He cocked his thumb over his shoulder at the loft. 

"That place is full of him, Lindsey. Everything has him all over it. His clothes in the closet, his smell in the sheets. His fucking shampoo in the shower." 

"You left his shampoo in the apartment?" Lindsey asked, incredulous. "Why didn't you just throw it away?"

Brian was quiet as a smile spread over his face. He started laughing, quietly at first, under his breath, but it grew and grew in intensity until he was laughing that hard, private, silent laugh and his face was turning red.

"What? What's so funny?" Lindsey asked, smiling a confused smile.

He tried to get his breath back enough to answer. "I didn't leave it." He whispered, laughing that impossible laugh. "I packed it." 

Lindsey was quiet for a moment and then cracked up. She laughed so hard and felt so sad that she thought she might throw up, and Brian did too, and then the cab arrived.


End file.
